


Shakeswood - Pillow Talk

by Dustbunnygirl



Series: Shakeswood [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dustbunnygirl/pseuds/Dustbunnygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic: Pillow Talk (Torchwood, Shakeswood AU)<br/>Title: Pillow Talk (no illusions to the Doris Day/Rock Hudson classic intended)<br/>Part of the Shakeswood-verse<br/>Fandom: Torchwood (AU)<br/>Pairings/Characters: Jack/Ianto <br/>Rating/Warnings: Adult (R). Smut with little to no plot, but hey, at least there aren’t any spoilers! Except for the brief allusions to what is to come in the sequel.<br/>Word County: 728<br/>Disclaimer: Let’s see. BBC and RTD own all rights to anything Torchwood. The ages own all rights to everything Shakespeare. I own nothing. Nothing I tell you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shakeswood - Pillow Talk

The darkened hallways of Torchwood Castle were silent. Lamps were long since dimmed. Fires had been left to burn themselves to embers and dust. Servants and staff and guests had stumbled to their beds - some out of exhaustion, some of excess - and locked themselves away with only dreams and snores as company. The rest was silence.

The rest, save a low, choked moan prodding at the sanctity of the night’s quiet from the shadowed depths of the Great Hall. Within, where the fire stoked at the evening meal was little more than a red glow among the ash, two shadows writhed in the Duke’s chair. Two shadows, both with hands that clutched and bruised, backs that bowed; both who moaned and sighed in counterpoint as they moved together in the dark.

“Give in,” Jack growled, a laugh at the end of the order. His arms were braced on those of the chair, holding himself back. “Your heart wishes it, even if your lips refuse.”

“Neither my heart nor my lips are the part of me you should be concerned with!” Ianto bit out between tightly clenched teeth. He thrust desperately, uselessly, upward but gained none of the depth he wished. “You, my lord, are a tease.”

Jack raised one braced hand to Ianto’s cheek. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of Ianto’s face and caught on Jack’s thumb; Jack brought the digit to his lips and licked the droplet away with his tongue. Ianto groaned.

“You have all the power to end your own torment,” he teased around the thumb. He rolled his hips, providing some of the sensation Ianto begged for, but nowhere near enough. “A simple yes is all you need give.”

Ianto’s face was creased with the effort of his own restraint, his own desperation, but at Jack’s simple reminder, something lit it with sudden inspiration. “Bugger this,” was the only offered warning before he lurched from the chair, taking him and Jack both out of the chair and onto the rug spread over the bare floor in front of it. With Jack shocked and briefly winded beneath him, Ianto rocked forward, quick and deep. Both men’s moans filled the high-ceilinged room, growing louder with each celebratory thrust.

It was not long before the hungry moans turned to keening cries and the two men collapsed into the rug together, hard breathing and coated in sweat. Ianto rolled to his back after a moment, pulling Jack with him until his head pillowed against Ianto’s chest, one of his legs slid lazily between Ianto’s. After several minutes of silent stillness, Jack sighed. Ianto raised his head a millimeter, enough to see his lover’s put upon look.

“Your pout, my lord, has not the magic quality over me that it may have over some,” Ianto said, voice deep and shredded with breathless exhaustion. “I have become immune to that particular charm.”

“Hardly fair,” Jack said in return, as petulant as a child denied his sweets. “You cheated.”

The accusation brought Ianto up onto his elbow. “I did not! You told me I could end my own torment and I did. Do not blame me if your own words prove your undoing.”

Jack frowned a moment longer, then let his head sink into the warmth of Ianto's chest. Ianto, after a moment, settled back where he had began and threw a tired arm across Jack’s waist.

“There still lacks a sense of justice to it,” the Duke muttered. “And in all fairness, it is not too much to ask, the simple request.”

Ianto rolled his eyes, the act blocked from Jack’s view by his position on Ianto's chest. “Beg, bribe, cajole and con all you may wish to, my lord, but you will not put the wig back upon my head, or the dress upon the rest of me.”

Jack’s head raised but an inch. “Not even for your beloved sister’s wedding?”

“ _Especially_ not for my beloved sister’s wedding.”

“Spoilsport.” Jack’s head fell back to Ianto's chest and he draped a warm arm across Ianto’s waist. Tomorrow, he told himself as he felt Ianto’s breathing begin to even out with the steady encroach of sleep. _I shall ask again tomorrow. And maybe through perseverance in this small matter I will prevail._

A smile curved the Duke’s lips as he too slipped into dreams.


End file.
